Admitting When You Need Help

I hear you both. It issuch heart breaking to know that the devils actually live among us. They are all dressed up as Angels but those who suffer from them secretly know better.

I have worked as a counsellor and so I have heard umpteenth stories related to most hideous abuses. I have seen the victims and their evidences. I feel pain when I hear the story.

Trust me when I say counsellors are your real friends. They say it's easier to talk to strangers and yes it is!

Open up your hidden world and heart to your counsellors and see and feel how what you thought once as impossible thing happening: happiness entering your life. Freedom from that constant fear and pain.

I wish you both joy and peace.

 

Sweed1
I had no idead what PTSD ws until my PCP caught on to some of the things I was saying, for example I continued to say I was fat and needed diet pills. I have a huge issue on control and being able to control things around me. And what I put in my mouth seemed like the only thing I could control at the time. Anyway long story short over a period of time he realized that it had nothing to do with my weight etc that I had something else going on so he talked to me and referred me to a psychiatrist and 2 years later I am just now slowly (but not completely) opening up.
My life was perfect and beautiful before my momma died. She got breast cancer and slowly died over a period of 3 or 4 years. She was uncommonly diagnosed in her late 20s. She slowly and painfully passed away from it but not until the cancer had ate her entire body up. After momma died my dad started drinking and attempted to commit suicide by downing a bottle of pills. I was about 9 or 10 at the time. Me and my little brother found him. I thought he was dying just like my momma of course I was too young to understand. He lied about it in the hospital, but even at that age I knew he was lying to me when he told me he accidentally took the wrong pills. Then after that he became mean and angry and would leave me, my sister and little brother in the house sometimes t days end without food. There were times when the electricity would be disconnected because he never paid the bill. We would have 2 of those buckets that you can put a lid on it (can't remember if they are 10 pound buckets) but anyway we would have rice in one and beans in the other because if we left them in the bags they came in then the rats would eat through the bags. The crappy thing is I would go to school in dirty clothes, unbathed, messy hair and no one noticed. There were no teachers who paid attention when I would put my head down and cry because the other kids made fun of me. No one asked me if everything was okay even thought I would show up with bruises on my face and body. My daddy used us as a punching bag when he came home drunk. We'd have school the next day and when he WOULD be home he would at times wake us all up, make us 3 line up like military style and scream in each of our faces about how much we should be grateful that he hasn't dropped us off somewhere and that if it wasn't for us he would be here or there. There were times where the only meal I got was at school. It was so cold in that trailer in the winter without any heat or lights. And when I went to my daddy and told him what my uncle had done to me he told me to shut the hell up and stop making stories up. I only continued to go to my uncles because my cousin (the one who killed herself by overdosing eventually) was my best friend whom I loved like a sister. So me and my cousin would shove the vacuum cleaner up against the door and we'd take turns keeping watch when the other could sleep. We never spoke out loud about her daddy, my uncle because she was ashamed that her daddy used her like a wife for years. We ended up both leaving home at 15 and ended up drinking every day and getting high. I figured I would have been the one dead first because I was more reckless, but when I got the phone call that they found her dead at 24 and then because of doctor prescribed medication overdose I just couldn't believe. I hate my uncle, I still can't look him in the eyes because he did that, HE KILLED HER in more ways than one. My family is truly messed up. But that is only a small piece of the crap. But as far as the PTSD even though I've never fought in a war I still have flashbacks. Sometimes I can hear my uncle's heavy breathing when he hurt me all those times. When I had no control because I was a little kid. How I used to safety pin my braws together and wearing bagger clothes for years because I thought it was something I was doing or looking like and that I was asking for it. And since my daddy didn't listen to me or stop it then who would. So I strangley react in a child like memory. I go back and I am scared, I am scared because I am too little to fight back. No one believes me anyway. so it just continues for her and me. I want to protect her so I sacrifice to protect my cousin my best friend who I ended up killing because I wasn't there for her. She is buried right above my momma in the same graveyard. I miss her so much. I sometimes wake up in a dreamlike state and still hear her laughing in my dream, then I remember she is no longer here.

 

Hi. Long time no see. I sometimes see my deceased loved ones in my dreams. But, the one person I see a lot is my best friend Kendall. She died in a car wreck in 2006. I miss her . I dream about how we used to be and sometimes in my dreams ...she tells me not to be sad ....that she's happ and that she loves me and wants me to move on. That dream helped. Since then. .. I still miss her but, as weird as this is to say. .I'mean not sad anymore. I think Kendall gave me closer.